


When in Ergastulum (Mostly Black!Reader)

by jobeii



Category: Gangsta. (Anime & Manga)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-08-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:06:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25980307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jobeii/pseuds/jobeii
Summary: Just a bunch of drabbles while I'm deprived.
Relationships: Alex Benedetto/Reader, Galahad Woehor/Reader, Nicolas Brown/Reader, Theo (Gangsta.)/Reader, Worick Arcangelo/Reader
Kudos: 25





	1. time. (Nicolas Brown)

“So you’re going to just leave?” You signed. “Just like that? You’re going to leave me?”

“It’s not that simple,” Nicolas signed weakly into the lamp light beside his bed.

You half-laughed. “Looks simple to me.”

“It’s not.”

His movements were as light as a feather. Like, if you touched his fingers, he’d break like bone china against tile. This wasn’t Nic. 

“Then make it!” You jutted your arms outward and dropped them to your sides. “Make it! Because I don’t get why–“ you looked everywhere, trying to find the right words. “I don’t get why you have to go.”

Nicolas grasped your wrist and pulled you closer to him. 

The tears in your eyes started to well up.

“You said you had time,” you croaked out. He tugged your wrist again and you laid against his slim chest. His heartbeat was a slow song. “You told me you had time.”


	2. The Note (Nicolas Brown)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nicolas obsesses over the note from the woman in District 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imma add a part 2 to this (most likely)!

Nicolas stared at your handwriting. He already read the note at least twelve times. So, to escape the voice in the back of his head calling him a pathetic sap, he examined the curve of your “W” in “We.” Nicolas admired the gentle spacing of your letters. The full letters, curved and not touching, in the middle of words like, “literature,” and “friends,” told him you wrote this with care. It matched your good intentions. 

Or did it?

And then, he was reading it for the (assumed) thirteenth time:

_Hey! We haven’t met but based on your choice of literature, I think we’d make good friends. Hope you enjoy! :)_

Nicolas huffed as something tickled the inside of his stomach. What the fuck was his deal? 

According to Worick, you’d given him the neatly folded note tucked at the top of a piece of literature like a bookmark, after Worick had purchased his monthly haul from your bookstore in District 4. 

“Tell him to come by sometime is what she said,” Worick explained with a grin as he kicked off his shoes. “She wants to know what you think of it, partner.”

Nicolas laid back on his pillow and raised the note to the lightbulb above his bed. It beamed against the paper, framing the words in a warm circle. 

Good friends, huh?

He never took you for one of those fanatic Twilight fuckers. The ones that paid Big Mama money to schedule meet-ups outside of the Corsican District, so they’d be able to freely fondle whatever Tagged needed compensation to survive. 

You were an odd one out in that part of town. He’d heard things about you that made him wonder what you did behind those bookshelves when the shop was closed. And, if you wanted the likes of him in your bookstore so badly, why live in the Anti-Twilight District anyway?

It was sketchy, but, for reasons he didn’t ask about, Worick seemed to trust you. And, truthfully, Nicolas wanted to as well. 

This was your invitation, he guessed. 

Nicolas breathed through his nose. Or, it was just a stupid note. Worick probably forged it. His partner was known for doing things like that. Sometimes, it was a joke. Other times, Nicolas thought it was out of pity.

But this. This writing. 

It was all gentle curves, and low dips. It was nothing like the strict, overly rehearsed script that blonde bastard created with a pen.

Gently folding the note back, he picked up the book that housed it. You’d picked Mary Wollenstonecraft’s “Frankenstein” as a starter. 

Nicolas grinned to himself. What the fuck were you trying to say? 

Placing the note on his chest, he turned to page one, and began to read.


End file.
